Proverbs 30:26 The conies are but a feeble folk, yet make they their houses in the rocks;
Just a few days ago, my wife and I led a tour group in Ein Gedi, where David cut a piece of Saul’s cloak in one of the caves. One of the native species of the region are “conies” or rock badgers.
These little creatures which resemble guinea pigs in the West make their homes in rocks and in the sides of mountains — only venturing away from their rocky homes in the quest for food. While the badger stays within his home of rocks, he is safe from his natural predators. He stays close to home because he realizes his limitations. Badgers recognize that they do not have the strength within themselves — their strength lies in the rocks they call home.
So it should be for us as believers. We, too, must recognize our limitations! We need to be aware that like the conies, we are feeble folk! If we venture too far away from our Rock, Yeshua (Jesus) — we will become vulnerable, easy prey! But if we stay within the shelter of our Rock, we can rest in the security He provides!
The winds and storms of this world can shake us up a bit — but they don’t sway the Rock! Let’s make sure our homes are built in the safest place there is. Let’s build on the Rock.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]When we read the promises of God, we must read them the way we ourselves want to be heard—in full context. Just as we expect others to understand our words in light of what we’ve said before, God expects us to interpret His promises in light of all He has revealed in His Word.
A few days ago, I shared a quote from B.J. Willhite, and today I want to delve deeper into his powerful insight. He wrote, “The law of prayer is the highest law of the universe—it can overcome the other laws by sanctioning God’s intervention. When implemented properly, the law of prayer permits God to exercise His sovereignty in a world under the dominion of a rebel with free will, in a universe governed by natural law.”
When God spoke to Abram, the command was clear yet profoundly personal. The Hebrew phrase lech lecha carries a dual meaning: “go forth” and “go for yourself.” This journey wasn’t just a physical relocation; it was a spiritual pilgrimage—a call to walk out God’s will and to walk into his divine inheritance. Abram’s journey was not merely about distance but about destiny.
In the stillness of a desert night, surrounded by cut offerings and the lingering scent of sacrifice, Abram beheld something utterly sacred — God Himself, in the form of a smoking oven and a burning torch, passing between the pieces of a covenant. It was not Abram who walked through the blood-soaked path. It was God alone. And that changes everything.
Tonight we’ll participate in the Independence Day celebration in Israel — and what a party! — shows, fireworks, music, dancing, everything under the sun!
Yesterday, Israel observed Yom HaShoah—Holocaust Remembrance Day—honoring the memory of the six million Jews who perished. Tragically, a recent poll reveals that nearly half of Israelis fear the possibility of another Holocaust. In light of this sobering reality, I want to share a powerful story of one remarkable woman who rescued 2,500 Jewish children from the ghettos during World War II.
One night a house caught fire and a young boy was forced to flee flames by jumping to the ground from the roof. His father stood on the ground below with outstretched arms, calling to his son, “Jump! I’ll catch you.” But the boy was afraid — he couldn’t see his father — all he could see was flame, smoke, and blackness. He was afraid. Still, his father kept yelling: “Jump son! I will catch you!” But the boy refused, crying, “Daddy, I can’t see you!” His father replied, “It’s ok son — I can see you — and that’s all that matters!”